


I Guess I'm Floating

by overestless



Series: Habits [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, It's In A Dream, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Roommates, Slice of Life, brief mention of bipolar, how tf do you tag, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overestless/pseuds/overestless
Summary: Living with Isak causes Even to discover some of his habits.





	I Guess I'm Floating

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so....this is my first fanfic EVER aside from a Hannah Montana one i wrote 5 years ago. yeah. i do not claim to be a good ass writer also im very american so im not even going to attempt any norwegian anywhere. lastly, i dont even know if the balcony i described exists. enjoy~~

** Habit 1 **

 

A brisk chill creeps in and wakes Even up from his slumber. On the weekends, when he’s not manic, his sleep is usually a deep and heavy one. Similar to being underneath 16 pounds of snow. His eyelids lift with a struggle and forces his pupils to readjust to the dark room. A splint of moonlight peers through from his right. The window is open, and as Even notices this, another puff of wind escapes into the room. The cause of the cold. 

 

He turns to his left, and sat where an Isak should be, is an Isak-shaped dent in the mattress. His hand smoothes it over as he slowly sits up.

 

“Isak?” Even croaks into the air like the pitch blackness will somehow produce his boyfriend. He falls back into the pillow, considering the fact he is mostly likely in the bathroom. A few beats later and,

 

“Out here.” Far away, a small voice gently responds. Even waits for him to make an appearance but Isak stays put. Silence floods over and even the outside world seems to hush, making Even feel very big in his bed. 

 

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Even untangles himself from the cream-colored sheets and pads over to the window. He looks out and sees the backside of Isak sitting on their small black concrete balcony. It was most likely originally built for a grandiose garden but somehow remains sturdy and big enough to hold two young blonde boys named Even and Isak. A miraculous discovery on the first day of moving that ended in shots in the spring sun and a lazy makeup session. The memory seems far away.

 

He first spots Isak's unruly blonde hair; the gold flecks highlighted by the half moon above. A joint burns in his right hand, waiting for Isak to take another drag as it fizzles down. He doesn’t move.

 

“Hey you.” Even watches as Isak stubs his joint into a ceramic bowl.  “What are you doing up?” He persists, untamed concern creeping into his voice. He knows Isak doesn’t like when Even’s worry is wasted on him, even when it’s necessary. He leans on the window frame.

 

“Sorry.” Isak has never been one to actually answer a question that may lead to a long conversation. Even can immediately tell when Isak decides in his head that his response will either be too little or too much so he gives up all together. 

 

Even can’t stand not seeing his face anymore. He slinks through the window opening and meets Isak on the ground where he is sat, knees pulled up to his chest. His body looks small and scared like a lost child, but as Even turns and scans his face, there is a simple and plain expression lying there, no fear. He looks relaxed even. Even runs his fingers through Isak's hair, ruffling the curls at the top. Isak doesn’t look up from the smudge on the ground he’s transfixed on.

 

“You okay?”

 

Isak finally tilts his chin up to face Even. “I just do this sometimes, I guess. Back at the Kollektiv, too. Yeah.” He finishes, wrinkling his nose like he hates his voice, like it's too clogged and unsure. Even frowns.

 

“Stay up?”

 

“Yeah. Usually you don’t wake up. I don’t know. I don't sleep sometimes. I can’t.” Isak presses his forehead into his knees. He looks like he hates this conversation.

 

“You can’t, or you just don’t want to?”

 

“Even.” Isak startles up like he was stabbed in the side. It’s late, it’s late, stop. There’s some annoyance to the pain in his voice and Even wishes his words didn’t come out like that.

 

"No, I’m really asking.” Even rubs Isak's back lightly, hoping to be comforting instead of patronizing.  Isak keeps his mouth shut but turns his head, like he can’t bear to look at Even. It’s embarrassment on his face he’s hiding. Even knows it. 

 

It doesn’t seem like Isak will be saying much more. A gusting chill rushes through Even's pajama pants and prickles his sleepy skin. 

 

“One night… I,uh.. I woke up,” Even starts and Isak darts his eyes back at him. “And you were saying something in your sleep next to me. This was back in the old place.” Even continues to stare straight ahead at the building across from them. A light is on far below them, unreachable. He glances at Isak. He looks about to apologize or cry, so Even speaks up again.

 

“I didn’t know what you were dreaming. I tried to wake you but you…you had this expression on your face. You looked so scared.” Even pulls his hand from Isak’s back like it’s inappropriate to touch him right now. Isak sucks in a sharp breath.

 

"You kept saying… 'momma, momma, stop' and um, 'please stop before I choke.' You didn’t say anything else that night, just that. I went back to sleep when you eventually settled and you seemed okay.” Even feels sweltering guilt thickening in his lungs like he was living the moment all over again. A boy, terrified and helpless, but it’s not Even, not a manic episode. It’s his love and his light and he didn’t even… Maybe he should have woken him up or said something the next day. But he knew conversations like these are worse for Isak, and better if he doesn’t know. It’s just. 

 

Even wants to hold him and keep him so buried in his arms that he never feels pain again. It’s unrealistic, it’s overwhelming, it’s Even being wacky again, but he feels it. He feels it. He just loves him. Why won’t Isak say anything?

 

“Are you having nightmares?” Even asks and he feels like he's a thousand yards away from both of their bodies.

 

“How late did you stay up watching me?” Isak is Isak.

 

“Not that late. I was fine.” You weren’t though, Even thinks. Let me help you. He grabs Isak’s hand from where it’s laying and the boy lets him hold it. He holds it how he loves. Softly but firmly. Even is here for Isak and will always make sure of it.

 

“Okay.” 

 

Even is Even, so he pulls both their hands up and presses his lips to Isak’s knuckles. 1, 2, 3, 4. Then, his wrist. He exhales. Then, just Isak. Isak’s small mouth against his, lightly, softly, firmly. Even and Isak. Isak kisses like he’s saying sorry and Even’s eyes are burning. 

 

Even pulls them up like a dance. “Come lie with me."

 

And in that moment, Isak is dragged to the deep end, whereas the deep end is their bed, and in Even’s arms, Isak indulges in the smothering feeling of this deep end. The 16 pounds of snow, a blanket. They feed off each other’s warmth in the covers that spin them into a cocoon. Even talks about his whole day yesterday which is so damn boring and lovely that Isak can't keep his eyes open. For some reason they feel like it’s their first time ever sleeping. Even stares until the hand he’s still holding falls limp. 

He didn’t get an answer, a proper one, but Isak is sleeping. They’ll talk tomorrow, because right now, everything’s okay. He falls asleep with a blonde boy on his mind, and in his palm, a resting warm hand resides without motion.

 

Even blinks twice, breathes, and lets the 16 pounds of snow quietly drift him back to his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> ayo! back again. i KNOW everyone writes isak with insomnia for some reason. sorry if you’re like... so dead tired of reading it. I will be writing more parts that don’t have to do with that if you’re sick of it hehe. win win! 
> 
> thanks for reading buds!


End file.
